Unmasking
by Indigo Signora
Summary: People don't change, and some would do best not to convince themselves otherwise.
1. Infatuation

A/N - Unbeta'd. Concrit is appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)

--

I always found it so sickening how my friend Lana fawned over Pavi Largo. It was as if she honestly believed that the two of them were meant to be together. She would spend hours tracing stupid little hearts engraved with their initials, daydreaming about the day that he would swoop into her life and knock her head over heels. She fantasized that she might meet him in the street, and Pavi, upon looking into her tawny brown eyes, would realize that she was the love of his life.

Her confessed feelings were always received with no criticism on my side—I try to act the part of the supportive friend no matter how foolish the confessions might be. Lana just didn't see the reality in the situation.

The Pavi Largos of this world do not feel love. Perhaps they feel a shallow imitation of the true emotion when they actually begin to get to know someone. When it comes to the real thing, however, they've not a clue how to recognize it. What they consider to be love will fade just as soon as someone shiny and new comes along. If they stay with one person 'til their death, then they weren't tempted enough in their lifetime.

Lana, like so many other hopeless romantics out there, had the misplaced idea that she could reform Pavi's old ways. She figured that once she had him in her claws, he would never feel the need to stray into the flavourless embrace of a Gentern ever again. _He will discover the meaning of true love_, she would assure herself fervently as she lingered by the Replace Your Face posters.

Though I try to be the supportive friend, I can't deny that I had tried to coax Lana out of her fantasy land in as gentle of ways as possible. The age gap was one point, being that there was a ten-year span between our births and his. We weren't minors, though, and I doubt a difference of age would have stopped him anyway, so that argument nearly always fell flat. Another point was the fact that she should have grown out of her crush by our age. She had been infatuated with him since her hormones started flowing, but I had still hoped that she would've dropped the whole thing once she stepped out of her teenage years. Much to my dismay, her twentieth birthday had brought no dissuasion in the least.

It frustrated me that Lana, by no means a stunning girl but still a lady with looks to be reckoned with, should rebuff the other men who asked her out just because "her heart belonged to someone else". I knew she was squandering away her potential romantic life on some jerk who wouldn't know monogamy if it kicked him in his messed-up face.

Even before Lana had started on her whole Pavi trip, I still disliked the youngest Largo brother. His ways disgusted me to no end. I could only imagine how many Genterns he had slept with, or how many foolish young girls like Lana that he had lured into his bed with his playboy charm. Such a casual attitude toward women was hardly something I would support. Not only was his sleeping around unsafe, but it was amoral. He was breaking hearts and treating women like objects, and never once did he look back to see the emotional damage he caused. In short, I very near loathed him.

Before your eyes stray from the page, realize that I know what you're thinking. You think that because I'm the one who hated Pavi, then I must have met him and fallen for him and lived happily ever after, proving just how wrong I was. It'd be a storybook ending to my storybook complaining.

Well, you should also realize that real life isn't a damn storybook. There are no happy endings, only ones that aren't completely depressing. I don't, however, mean to come across as the pessimistic cynic. I think that people can be happy, but it is immature to think that you can trundle down the road of love without a few obstacles, some of which that happen to be immovable and insurmountable. Pavi himself is one of those objects.

There is no moving him from his place in life.

--

_-to be continued-_


	2. Ciao, Bella

A fruity laugh slipped along an industrial wind and rang like distant music to Lana's ears. I saw the smile bloom on her face and she spun in place, looking for her dearest love.

I rolled my eyes and closed the front door behind me. My house, a well-worn but liveable triplex, was more on the brinks of town than right in the thick of things and thereby safe from possible thieves. Not that I worried too much. It was the cemetery proprietors that had to keep an eye out these days. The grave robbers were flourishing more and more as our corrupted city continued to eat itself alive.

It seemed as if GeneCo's new management had failed to change things. If anything, things were worse than ever. Legal Zydrate was still just as hard to obtain, but the black market version was cropping up in abundance. The former spokesperson for the anti-addiction campaign herself, Amber Sweet, wasn't doing a thing to keep Zydrate off the streets. And who would have figured otherwise? We all knew of her addiction. I'm sure each of us had come across her crumpled, stoned out of her mind, in a gutter in some back alley at some point or another. Her only real action to stop the spread was continuing the apprehending of any grave robbers found. It was a thin mask behind which to hide her dirty little secret, but so far it had worked. Of course, as manager of GeneCo, there wasn't anyone above her to point fingers.

Not only had the amount of street Zydrate increased, but the death toll was booming. Amber had, to the utter horror of every resident, appointed her brother Luigi as the head of law enforcement. The Gencops had been given allowance to be as brutal as possible. As a result, minor infractions had earned the death penalty on numerous occasions. Luigi himself was often found stalking the streets surrounded by a battalion of Gencops, raring for someone to provoke him in some small way so that he could get use of his blades.

Pavi Largo, it seemed, had not been designated a certain position in the company. Rather, he strolled along as he always had, dazzling the ladies and stealing faces along the way. Rumours circled that he was in charge of whatever departments were behind cosmetic surgery, but nothing was certain.

No research was being done to speed up the face-changing surgeries; that was for sure. No one was willing to go through with the procedure any more, not after Amber's disastrous performance at the Genetic Opera last year. People couldn't be bothered with an enhancement that might fail. No one cared all that much anyhow. Plastic surgery was still always an option.

There were always options for those who chose to put their faith in GeneCo.

Lana was still searching for the source of the laugh. She beckoned for me to hurry up, as if I too couldn't wait to get a quick glimpse of her crush. I resigned myself to trotting along behind her.

"Lana!" I called out. Her pace was certainly more eager than mine, and she was putting distance between us two. "Lana! Wait up!"

She paused at a street corner, looking from left to right. I doubt she had heard my comment—she was like a fox on a hunt, dead set on her target and impossible to distract. I heard her mumbling; something about from which way the unctuous giggle had drifted. I had hardly caught up before she was off again, dashing to the right.

Her pursuit finally ended when we saw a cluster gathered at another street corner. As I approached the clamouring throng, I could just barely make out a head of inky black hair surrounded by the red masks of the Genterns.

I held my distance, a frown curling my lips as I watched Lana trying to nudge through the crowd. It was strange that a Largo sibling should stray so far from the inner city. I couldn't imagine what would have brought Pavi to the suburbs. His presence was certainly known, though. Girls of all ages were elbowing their way closer to the center of the maze of people. It turned my stomach to see the preteens squealing admissions of love to Pavi. He would respond with a flourishing wave, as if promising to give them a good lay once they came of age. The girls didn't seem to realize that they were setting themselves up for a love 'em and leave 'em relationship, possibly followed by a brutal killing by Luigi and a swift face-snatching.

Fed up with the pathetic show, I stalked over to Lana just as a couple of Gencops began to disperse the crowd. Disappointed girls slinked off to their houses, undoubtedly to slip their fingers into their panties to relieve the sexual tension created by Pavi's proximity.

Just as I hooked an arm around Lana's elbow intending whole-heartedly to drag her away if need be, I heard the fruity laugh once more, this time right in front of me. I looked up, and what do you know, there he was, grinning permanently behind his mask. He had long since shed Amber's old face and donned something new. I wondered what poor soul had unintentionally willed their face to Pavi.

"Aha! So-a eager to run away!" His voice was a carefree lilt, more Italian-sounding than his siblings. "Why are you-a leaving, _bella_? Maybe I want to continue looking at your-a pretty face!"

I stiffened as he raised a single finger to my chin, lifting my head so that I was looking directly into his eyes. The mask was one that expressed merriment, reminding me of how he looked that dark night at the opera. His eyes, however, betrayed something else, something I couldn't pinpoint.

"Yes, beautiful!" He dropped his hand and offered it to me. "Come, _bella_, and I will-a show you GeneCo. Someone as pretty as-a you could-a be a Gentern!"

The Genterns giggled in an all-too-sycophantic fashion. They were just the type of woman on which Pavi thrived: vapid and promiscuous. Their painted fingernails traced invisible, lusting scratches down his chest as if they couldn't wait for the return to his bedroom.

I glared at him with as much disdain as I could muster with Lana shooting eye-daggers into my back. "No thanks. I'd prefer a career that uses brainpower."

A collective gasp of offense rose from the Genterns. Their bottom lips all popped into a pout one by one. They were certainly acting like programmed robots. Had they been trained as such, or did Pavi enjoy the lack of conflict brought on by the Genterns lack of brain cells? Good question.

Pavi, on the other hand, laughed again. "_Sí_, _bella_, very good! Such wit! Are you-a sure you don't want to come for a walk? We could-a have much to talk about!" He proffered his hand once more.

I gave Lana's arm a tug backward and began to step away. "No thanks," I repeated. "Maybe another time."

"_Sí_! I will be-a waiting!" Pavi waved flamboyantly and ushered his Gentern posse in the other direction. Their chatter about what they would do to him later was audible for all too long after they had headed off.

We were hardly a block away when Lana rounded on me with fire in her eyes. "What was that all about?" she hissed.

There was no point in playing dumb. The object of her affection hadn't even glanced her way as he had essentially hit on me. Her jealousy was blaring as fiercely as Luigi's temper, and I knew that unless I manoeuvred carefully out of this predicament, I might earn her cold shoulder for a good week or so.

"Lana, he was just being an ass. Don't read too much into it." Like that would happen. She would probably spend months dwelling on the encounter.

"Oh? And the fact that he was pretty much humping you with his eyes? I'm not supposed to read into that?" Her hands were in tight fists, and I worried that one might break free and smash my teeth. "Jesus Christ! He's mine, and you still—"

"Excuse me?" I lost it at that point. The words began to flow, harsh and honest. "Yours? _Yours? _Lana, he doesn't know your goddamn name, and yet he's still _yours_? Listen, it's about time you grow up and realize that he's never going to give a shit about you. He's going to keep screwing whores and Genterns and every other girl in this stupid city, and even if he does give you the time of day and maybe a quick fuck, he will _never care about you_. Get over it!"

It was cruel, it was excessive...and it was the truth. I had kept it all hidden for so long, and one foolish comment from Lana had cracked the seal. I felt bad immediately afterward, but the damage had been done.

With one final look of purest contempt, Lana slapped me across the face and left me standing frozen on the sidewalk.


	3. Lost In Fog

It felt as if things had been ruined forever between Lana and me. Weeks went by without a word from her, and although the cessation of Pavi-talk was a relief, the guilt gnawed at my insides. We had been friends ever since we discovered that we both hated Blind Mag's music at the age of eleven. Many a glorious day had been spent in our rooms, happily bashing that "weird-eyed freak" or trying on each other's parents' makeup.

And now the days of innocence were long gone. It was only really apparent after the incident how much of my time I had spent with Lana. Jobless and without any real hobbies, I took to wandering the streets. It only depressed me further to see the deteriorating state of our poor city. Any grass that had survived the massive industrialization was now brown and dead, sprouting up from split concrete. Everything felt mechanical and utilitarian. The weight of our oppression bowed my shoulders. And yet, people were said to be freer than ever. How quickly we forget our debts when our leaders are whispering a constant stream of assurances in our ears.

My walks irritated my left knee. The old scar itched where it had been operated on back when I was fifteen. Fortunately, the procedure had not been too costly and we had been able to pay it off immediately. There were no Repo Men in my future. I was only the second-hand victim of repossession.

My aunt's untimely death had sent ripples of mild shock through my family. It wasn't as if people were overly fond of her. She was, after all, that relative we all have: the type to light up a cigarette at the dinner table; the one whose laugh is as overbearing and obnoxious as the persona; the person who we could all do without at the family function. Like Amber Sweet, she had been addicted to the knife. Every time she stepped unwelcome onto our doorstep, something was different about her looks. Once, her chest had tripled in size. Another time, a lengthy scar snaked its way from the crook of her neck to the base of her sternum. Sometimes we could only guess what organ had been replaced or enhanced.

Needless to say, we were less than surprised when told that her gutted corpse had been found behind one of her haunts. The Repo Man had not only claimed GeneCo's organs, but some of her still-functioning originals as well. It seemed her debt had grown over time to a point where even a refund was insufficient.

A small part of everyone in the family had known that this day would come. My aunt had not had anywhere near the amount of money needed to pay for the operations. Nevertheless, because a Repo Man had affected us—albeit indirectly—we were perturbed. It gives one a sense of vulnerability. Before it happens to you or someone close to you, the Repo Man feels more like a myth than a living, breathing entity.

I felt the same sense of disturbance as I meandered through the haze of my misery. It seemed as if what I had done to Lana had cursed me in some way, like the Repo Man would come and take away the heart I didn't deserve.

Sometimes, when the sadness overwhelmed me completely, I wished that I had taken Pavi's hand that day. Maybe if I had, I would have had someone..._someone_.

It was a day. I wasn't sure which day. I awoke groggy, in discomfort and curled into a painful little ball. Once the bleariness had cleared from my eyes, I was able to conclude that I was in an alley. At first unsure of how I had gotten there and somewhat worried, I leapt to my feet. As far as the dim light could let me see, there was no one else around. The gloomy side street was bare save for a dumpster, out of which poked a couple of fingers.

I repressed a shudder and headed for the main road. Although not fully certain of what had happened the previous night, I could now vaguely recall sitting down in the alley for a quick rest. I must have passed out from exhaustion. My walks were getting increasingly hazardous, it seemed.

With a start of fear, I checked out my body, looking for cut marks or puncture wounds. If someone had snuck up on me and shot me with Zydrate...but I saw nothing. True, I bore none of the hangover I associated with the day after an injection, something I had experienced only after the operation five years ago. A sigh of relief escaped my lungs as I darted into the smoggy sunlight—and promptly ran into someone walking by.

Before I could clear my head once more, I heard an all-too-familiar voice.

"_Bella_?"


	4. Conversation Over Dinner

"So...the Genterns."

Pavi swirled the wine around in the glass before taking a sip. He waited until the glass was set down before choosing to acknowledge what I had said.

"The Genterns," he repeated as he handed our menus to the waiter sweeping by the table. He paused to announce our orders, then diverted his attention back to the table, waiting for me to continue. I could just see the shadows of his face illuminated by the candle set between us. The restaurant, though furnished finely and boasting a successful enterprise, had a certain dismal air.

"Why" was all I could say before my self-consciousness shut me up. My intention was to ask him why he loved the company of the horny sycophants, but wondering if it would be rude had made me hesitate.

He seemed to have caught my drift anyway. "They enjoy-a being around the Pavi—what can I-a say? I will not deny them the-a company of a friend."

My ensuing laugh was scornful. "Friend? They consider you a friend? I figured you were a way for them to get their rocks off. It's not like they'd be interesting conversation." I kept my eyes focused to a point somewhere over his left shoulder. Even if I had accepted his offer to go to dinner, I still disagreed with his lifestyle. I still disliked him.

Pavi's reaction of shock and dismay was so exaggerated that I allowed myself a grudging smile. He had charisma—no wonder the people flocked to him.

"Ah, _bella_! You-a say that the Pavi is an object to those-a girls, that they don't like me for _me_!" The last word came out as a trill that drew the attention of nearby diners. I could see a fair few young ladies glaring in our general direction.

The red was rising in my cheeks, a hot flush that even I could feel. "Well, yeah," I mumbled.

His chuckle was disarming. "I-a knew you were a smart one, _bambina_. The Genterns...they are-a...how do you say...they are amusement for the Pavi." He scratched absently at one of the clasps binding his mask to his mangled face. "They are lovely girls, but not-a smart, like you."

"You never struck me as someone one could have an intelligent conversation with, either, Mr Largo." Ouch. That was below the belt.

"Please, call me Pavi." His eyes revealed amusement far more sincere than that portrayed by his mask of comedy. "_Bella_, the Pavi is certainly not-a smart enough to run-a GeneCo, but he is not a complete _idioto_! I-a know enough..." His voice trailed as the waiter set out plates before us, gave a quick bow to Pavi and pranced off to the kitchens.

Our conversation remained subdued as we ate. My stomach had been protesting for the past hour or so, indicating that I had not eaten anything during my walk. My depression was escalating, and I was afraid.

Whenever I thought it safe, I snuck quick peeks at Pavi while he ate. Everything about him demonstrated a polished upbringing. It was hard to believe that he was brother to Amber and Luigi, crude as they were. Though frivolous and juvenile at times, he was not intolerable to be around. It was almost possible to forget about his face-stealing...but as the thought crossed my mind, even my ravenous appetite dwindled into a feeling of illness. I pushed the plate of spaghetti away.

Pavi noticed the shift in the atmosphere and looked up. "Is-a something wrong with-a the food?" He returned his gaze to his own plate, as if confused that his meal could taste good while mine didn't.

"No...I...er..." My breath began to speed up as I saw myself for where I really was: dining with a wanton skin thief, the indirect reason for the shattering of my friendship with Lana. It was all I could do not to bolt right then and there.

"_Bella_?"

"Pavi..." I finally raised my eyes to his. "You're a sick bastard, and I hate you." The words sounded weak, but it was the only thing that came to my fumbling mind.

He was taken aback, and this time, the recoil was genuine. He wasn't used to criticism. This was the man who expected all girls to drop to their knees, mouths open, as soon as he entered the room. I saw his hand twitch for the mirror he had laid on the table, perhaps to seek comfort from the only person he considered to be truly beautiful and worth minding.

I wanted to say something truly scathing then, to take him down a peg, to let him know that not everyone swooned in his presence. My vocal chords, however, had failed. Furious and lacking anything to spit out with the vehemence boiling inside, I stormed from the restaurant. I didn't look back to see how the effeminate whore was reacting to my departure.

The anger was relief. The anger was emotion. The anger was something that wasn't about to consume me in a fog of despair. It felt wonderful. I felt free. I inhaled a lungful of suffocating city air, and smiled for the first time in over a month.

I learned within a very short time that it's difficult to stoke one's anger for very long if the source of it is nowhere near. Luckily enough for me, Pavi had taken to prowling my neighbourhood with his Genterns in tow. Whether he was doing it on purpose to find me or whether he just enjoyed the quiet suburban atmosphere, I wasn't quite sure. All I know is that roaming the streets with him lurking at every corner was no easy task.

It did keep my rage fuelled, though, to see the Genterns grinding him whenever he stopped for a moment in his strolls. Apparently, amusement was all that the youngest Largo sibling required. Half a brain wasn't criteria for admission into his entourage. The sight of their uninhibited envy to get into his pants was enough to upset my stomach with ill-suppressed fury. The Genterns, the Genterns, the Genterns...I hated them dearly. If their throats had gotten ripped out by Repo Men, I wouldn't have cared.

Sometimes I had the bitter urge to walk up and slap Pavi just as Lana had done to me, but I feared giving away my position. He didn't know for sure where I lived, after all. Hopefully, he would leave if I didn't resurface.

The days got lonelier. I began calling my parents more often to just to pass the time. My dad was in hospital for a heart transplant to cure an infection that had been brewing. My mother was still looking into the costs, seeing if she could afford some joint operations while they were at it.

I guess you could say that we were fairly fortunate. Due to their careers connected indirectly to GeneCo, my parents had earned enough to stay in a modest home in a neighbourhood on the other side of town. They were by no means rich, but if ever they needed some procedure performed on their bodies, it was normally not an issue to cover the fees. Nonetheless, they had been careful to not become dependent on the surgeries. As a result, their debt was not crawling upwards like so many people in the city. They managed to stay ahead of it all.

Of course, it was thanks to my parents that my knee problem had been taken care of before it worsened and left for me to fix when I got older. Being jobless was only possible at the moment because of the small sum my parents had bequeathed me in order to support myself before I got on my feet. Two years had passed since I moved out, though, and still no work. My funds were running low, but I couldn't summon the will necessary to go job-hunting. The recent past had done nothing to inspire me either.

If worse came to worst, I often told myself, I could always run back to Pavi and become a Gentern. At least then, my job would require little effort. Sort out some organs, maybe, stock shelves, do a little nurse work, sleep with Pavi now and then—simple as that.

It would be a cold day in hell before it came to that; of that I was certain. If I never came across that masked lunatic for the rest of my life, I would be perfectly content. As you know, though, this story would be over right now if such a thing had happened. Life would have gone on, and maybe things might have been better.

Of course, as I have already stated, life isn't without its obstacles. And I hadn't truly run into Pavi Largo—not yet.


	5. Spirited Away

A/N: This story has ten chapters total. Kind of hefty, I know, but stick with me. I'm hoping I can keep you enticed 'til the end :)

--

The cemetery where my aunt was buried was a step up from a pauper's mass grave. The tombstones were lopsided and mossy, and the mounds of earth looked as if they had been piled haphazardly into the graves within minutes. My aunt was lucky enough to have her own headstone, though it had been knocked over some years ago.

Looking at the fallen stone, I sighed. I wondered if I would die this way, penniless and unworthy of a proper memory in anyone's mind. Kneeling into the dead turf, I tried to remember where I had buried the ring my aunt had given me. The ring was some cheap gemstone on a fake gold band, but she had assured me that it was genuine. It had been my ninth birthday present, and even at that age I knew a last minute gift when I saw one. When she died, I had stuck the ring in its own shallow little grave to rest with its previous owner. She had deserved its cheap plastic more than me. The two were made of the same damn thing.

There was an anomaly in the landscape to the immediate right of the mound. I dug my fingers into the ground, hoping to find the ring. Maybe I deserved it after all.

Why was it that it seemed like my life had fallen to pieces? My parents were doing well, and I certainly could've scraped along had I motivated myself in some way. And yet, when my best friend left my side, it felt as if she had taken a veil from my eyes along with her. What did I have, really? A cheap house that wasn't even my own? No job, no boyfriend, no other real friends? It was hardly a source of pride...or happiness.

My fingers were into the ground up to the knuckles when I heard a loudspeaker booming behind me.

"GRAVEROBBER ON SITE. APPREHEND IMMEDIATELY. GRAVEROBBER ON SITE. APPREHEND IMMEDIATELY..."

My heart stopped when I heard the growl of a Gencop ordering me up. I spun around just to get a swift blow to my head with the butt of a gun. I fell back to the ground, dazed. I only caught of glimpse of the patrol of Gencops who had seemingly materialized out of thin air before another club to the head knocked me unconscious.

I came to sometime later. Hours could have passed, or maybe minutes. My first thought was that I had awoken in a fog. The walls were grey, the floor was grey, and the only thing that broke the solidness were the track lights casting a dim glow on the room. There was the fine outline of a door just visible in my periphery, but I couldn't even try to approach it—I was bound to my chair. Coarse ropes had been wrapped around my wrists and the chair arms, keeping me from fleeing.

The room had the oppressive feel of an interrogation room, and the thought was a cold spike to my heart. With Luigi in charge of the law, no interrogation method could be pleasant. I had to fight the tears from coming as the panic began to well. The hot ball of worry roiled and throbbed in my chest, searing when the door gave the faintest of creaks.

To my utmost terror, in walked Luigi himself. An ugly grin carved his twisted features. There was a poorly-concealed knife held behind his back, and he turned ever so slightly to leave me with an intentional glimpse of what was in store. A scream was boiling in my throat, but I fought to restrain it. I had the sick feeling that Luigi would derive too much pleasure from my cries. Already his excitement was palpable. His knife arm twitched, ready for any reason to dispose of me.

"So, lookin' for some Zydrate, were we?" he snarled, his menacing voice at odds with his considerable smile. "Well, guess what, sister—it's fuckin' illegal! It makes you a fuckin' thief! And you know what we do with thieves?" He brandished the blade, a ten-inch kitchen knife, polished and sharpened to absolute lethality.

"I—I wasn't—it was my aunt's—" The gasps wracking my chest were making it impossible to talk. And somehow, I knew that even the most concrete of excuses would not save me then. From what I had heard, Luigi was not the brother known for rational decisions. Anyone who grinned so largely at imminent murder was certainly not the type to spare a life because of a victim's innocence.

"Oh, so just because it's your aunt's grave, you think it's okay? You think it's fucking okay?!" His voice was rising in volume, and the knife was swishing dangerously close to my chest with his frantic gesticulation. He leaned close, his face inches from mine. "I'm gonna enjoy this one," he spat. I could feel flecks of his saliva hit my face. I was a little surprised he wasn't foaming at the mouth like the rabid dog that he was.

He allowed me one last toothy smile, and I was reminded ludicrously of Pavi's mask. I couldn't believe I was thinking of him when I was inches from death. What about my mother? My father? Would they know where I had gone, or how I had died? What about Lana? Would she even care? She would probably be glad that I had been murdered at the hands of GeneCo. It would be just repayment in her eyes.

Luigi was withdrawing his arm, prepared for a full-swing stab, when the door creaked open once more. It was the motion picture interruption I needed.

"Pa—" I began, crazily sure that he was stepping in to save the day. However, it was Amber that entered the room. My heart fell.

Amber Sweet adjusted her bathrobe. Her darkly-lidded eyes were clear for once—her system was Zydrate-free at the moment. She cast a bored look at Luigi. "What's the problem this time?" she asked, disinterested.

"Grave robber again," he replied with a cackle. "Gotta catch some of 'em sometime, right?" He moved behind my chair and pressed the knife to my throat. "What do you say, sister? Dispose of it?"

Amber finally looked my way. To my surprise, I could see recognition blooming behind her eyes. It had me stumped. I had never met her in my life, but she was looking at me as if I was another sibling that had disappeared years ago.

She approached my chair and brought her face to mine as Luigi had done just moments ago. A small smirk curled her painted lips. She straightened and set a hand on the one Luigi had clamped around the blade.

"She's the one," she murmured to her brother in her most soothing voice. "Let her go. He wouldn't like if it you murdered her."

"Fuck him! This little bitch was caught robbing a grave and I'll fucking kill her for it!" However, I felt the knife being pulled away from my throat. I exhaled with relief. My escape from this hellhole seemed imminent.

At that moment, Amber lost her patience. Her trademark attitude began to shine through. "Shut the fuck up! I'm the manager of this company, you will _fucking listen to me when I tell you what to do_!"

Her screech had finally silenced his sputtered complaints. Luigi used the knife to cut free my restraints instead. Flexing my hands and rubbing comfort into my wrists, I stood to face Amber. Though she had just saved my life, her aura of haughtiness was evident in the look she gave me.

"Follow me," she instructed. Her voice had returned to its arrogant, bored rhythm. The hem of her bathrobe fluttered as she turned in place and exited the room. Obediently, I followed, making sure to stay back a few steps. Her shirtless bodyguards joined her side from their stations right outside the door.

I had a vague idea as to where we were headed, but I didn't dare solidify the thought lest it be true.

--

_-to be continued-_


	6. Love and Hate

A/N: Here's the chapter that got the story its M rating. Little bit of smut coming right up.

--

Amber and I walked for several minutes through lushly decorated halls far more colourful than our city as a whole. A quick elevator ride brought us to the loft of the building, which I took to be the GeneCo tower. The hall we entered was just as decadently furnished as the other corridors, though somewhat more intimate—narrower and slightly darker. There seemed to be mood lights in this hall rather than the usual fluorescent lighting.

After another few moments, we arrived at a handsomely carved door near the end of the hall. Amber rapped it four times. We could hear a muffled grunt, the creaking of bedsprings, then the door finally opened. Standing in the frame was Pavi, his usually-perfect hair tousled for obvious reasons. We heard a squeal, and a barely-clothed woman darted between him and the doorframe and down the corridor. My eyes followed her as she slipped into the elevator, knowing that she would never return.

"Ah, sister! You have-a interrupted the Pavi" He too was looking to where the woman had disappeared. "A pity! She was a feisty _signora_." He winked heartily at Amber, as if she understood exactly what he was talking about.

Instead, she replied with a look of disgust. "Here she is. Will you stop bitching now?" Amber gave my back a shove, pushing me very nearly into her brother.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders. "Ah, yes! Thank you, dear sister. I will-a stop the...ah, bitching." We retreated into the room, and Amber was already stalking off even as Pavi slammed the door.

"So!" he cried. "_Bella_! I have-a not seen you in such a very long time. Where-a have you been?" He led me to what looked like a living room, and sat me down beside him on a cozy loveseat.

"Avoiding you," I growled.

He continued to smile, though his eyes betrayed disappointment. "Why, _bella_, why must you avoid the Pavi?" His fingers caressed my shoulder. The feeling, however, was not sexual. Strangely enough, it felt more like a gesture of comfort.

"I've already told you. You disgust me. The way you sleep around, the way you treat all the girls in this town, the way you—you—you're a murderer! You kill people and take their faces!" It was a stream of uncorked detestation. It felt wonderful to release it all.

Pavi ran a hand down his own face. "_Bella_...the Pavi has never-a murdered a soul." His voice was bemused. He sounded more like a wounded puppy dog more than anything. "Anyone who has-a said such a thing...I have-a only taken the faces of people who are already dead. I have never-a killed for a face."

"Oh, like that's so much better," I scoffed. "It's still disgusting. You're a despicable human being. You're a part of this foul corporation. You're the reason for my best friend leaving me." The tears were beginning to burn behind my eyelids. "You've screwed everything up! Get your fucking hand off me!" I shrugged out of his grasp and stormed to the other side of the room.

He said nothing, only watched me as I went. The grin of his mask, so comically excessive, struck a chord of irony.

I let the tears flow as I stood by a wall in the corner. In all the past weeks, I hadn't cried once. It was about time that I let them go. I slid to the floor and curled into a seated fetal position.

Minutes passed in painful silence. Finally, I sniffed and cleared my throat. I needed another focus that wasn't my crumbling life. "So...so...why did you never try to seduce me?"

Pavi finally stood and came to my side, though he did not sit down. "I-a figured it would not work on you, _bella_. The Pavi has-a seduced the ladies, even the men—everybody!" He giggled as he looked into his handheld mirror. His voice then became more serious, the Italian lilt seeming less apparent. "But for the girls who actually _think—_" he tapped his head "—the Pavi is not so wonderful. You'd-a be surprised. There are not many ladies who-a think around here."

"And so you chose to stalk me? Because I think?" I laughed, though it sounded watery and humourless. I wiped a few more tears from my cheeks. "And you abducted me? Why am I here? Why did you tell Amber to bring me to you? Why am I so important?" It was sounding increasingly like a poorly-written love story. The heroine detests the fickle hero, until she realizes that he has, for reasons unknown, fallen for her. She then admits her own deep feelings of attraction to him, and they live happily ever after.

Remember what I said before after happy endings, though?

Pavi waited before answering. He crouched down before me and scrutinized my face. I held my breath, waiting for the story book confession—

"You are a challenge, _bambina_." His eyes now matched the exaggerated glee of his mask. "But don't-a worry—the Pavi will get you-a yet!"

His words felt like a blow to my gut. I was stunned that anyone could be so blatantly oblivious to normal human behaviour. He really was a twisted son of a bitch. In that moment, I hated him more than ever. I hated his Genterns. I hated anything and everything that had to do with him.

And I hated the power he already had over me.

He registered my deadly look and got to his feet. "_Bella_?"

This world would be better without Pavi Largos. They're a scab upon society.

I got to my knees and pushed him back into a wall. My fingers fumbled at the button of his pants, and struggled to pull down the skin-tight material. The confusing swirl of emotions raged in my mind: hate, anger, confusion, sadness, _lust_—

His erection belied his feeble protests. He really was nothing but a sex-driven maniac. Contempt, loathing, hate; it was all a jumble lost in the fierceness of the moment. Someone had said that there is a fine line between love and hate. Is it true? As I sunk lower into my vortex of emotional chaos, I realized that I hardly cared.

Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips to the tip. I slipped my tongue along the slit, tasting his skin. My nails dug into the flesh of his back for support. They may have drawn blood—it didn't matter, not then. With one last breath, I enveloped as much of him as I could. When I could feel him pressed to the warm, wet confines of my mouth—that, I think, is when our dynamic changed.

No frills, no foreplay, no fun. It was anger. It was me dragging my teeth along his skin while he gasped in shock and pain and pleasure. It was sucking so hard I could feel the throb of blood pulsing beneath the surface. It was his hands raking through my hair and pulling to the point of yanking it out. It was a thrust, a moan, a release from all the shit we'd been through. It was a need for me just as much as it was for him.

When he came, hot and heavy, into my mouth minutes later, I think that is when I began to hate _myself_.

That line between love and hate...what is it made of? What do we have to cross? Is there an overlapping portion, where it can be both?

And on what side of that line did we stand?

--

_-to be continued-_


	7. Blissful Hypocrisy

Pavi Largo wasn't loved as a child.

Pavi Largo was sexually abused when he was younger.

Pavi Largo had suffered a brain injury in his youth.

Everyone had excuses readymade to explain his eccentricities.

I doubt that any of them were true.

Maybe he was just fucked up. We all are in some way, aren't we?

I don't know exactly how to describe what became of the two of us. The only thing I could say for sure is that I derived no happiness from his presence. His attitude was still insufferable. I was still blaming him for the ever-widening fissure between me and Lana. The vanity and the narcissism were sometimes too much for me to handle.

And yet, I just couldn't stop coming back.

Is this to what every girl in the city had fallen prey? As far as I knew, Pavi Largo emanated no strange power. He was neither a witch doctor nor a magician. In no way had he swept me off my feet or caused me to fall for him. All too many times I found myself begging to be let free of this curse, wishing every suffering upon his shoulders. I pleaded with deities I didn't believe in to remove Pavi from my life. Each day I convinced myself that I would never go back to his side.

And each tomorrow, my resolutions crumbled to dust.

I could still feel the dislike. It simmered in my veins, forever stoked by a permanent judgment. Some days I would spend hours sitting on some dilapidated park bench to watch from afar as Pavi flirted with the female population. My blood would pound each time he slipped off for a few minutes, a flustered and tittering girl laced around his arm. It blew my mind to see how the women of this town were letting themselves be used by the resident playboy.

Of course, as much as it sickened me, it shamed me as well. I was, after all, one of them.

There were times that I tried to convince myself that our "relationship" was different. It wasn't because I had feelings for him and wished to delude myself with the possibility of a romance. It was because I wanted to feel less shitty about becoming the city's greatest hypocrite.

I didn't even know how it had happened. Maybe that's why I felt as bad as I did. It's not like I had ever planned to start slipping off to fuck a man I loathed. I'm sure my parents would have been_ terribly _proud of me. With each encounter that passed, my self-respect dropped a couple of notches.

Indeed, there was certainly no happiness in it for me.

There was, however, pleasure.

I didn't mean to imply that our hook-ups were unpleasant rendezvous in seedy motels. Rather, we often spent time among the lavish comforts of his room in the GeneCo tower. It seemed as if the entire upstairs was his property; never once were we interrupted by a sibling or a Gentern. Occasionally we met up at my house, but I honestly preferred to be away from what reminded me of my past life.

Yes, the loss of Lana and the arrival of this bizarre new twist in the road had led me to feel as if I had stepped through some invisible barrier into a world separate from my own. In this new world, morals and values were cast aside for the sake of toe-curling ecstasy. Eventually, I trained myself to forget who I once was when I was in Pavi's company. It was only afterward that the mists of despair threatened to drown me.

I remember each visit with remarkable clarity. The first few times after my first experience at GeneCo, we spent more time talking than doing anything physical. Any contact was brief, innocent—mere promises for what was inevitably on the way. Strangely enough, for the amount of conversation we had, I learned little about him. Sure, he spoke often enough of himself, but only on a superficial level. Not once did he speak of his past, his dreams, his aspirations. And why should he have bothered? Such things were unnecessary. His life consisted purely of sex, changing faces and living in the plush luxury of his late father's legacy. Why stress oneself with the concerns of those who had to work to earn their keep? It was pointless.

The first time we had sex had been purely astounding. I cannot help but commend his skills. Before Pavi, I had had several boyfriends, only a couple of which I had slept with. Both times, the relationship had faltered not long thereafter. Emotions play an enormous part in the act, and my feelings for those boys had been lukewarm at the very most. With Pavi, though I did not love him, something fuelled the passion. The thing with passion is that it is not necessarily based off of love. Oftentimes, we can be in a passionate rage. Maybe that's what it was.

That first time, he had taken me out to dinner at an even nicer restaurant than before. Upon returning to his room, he brought out a bottle of champagne on ice and two crystal glasses. With a toast to GeneCo, we both downed the alcohol. Having already indulged in several drinks at the restaurant, my mind was weaving in and out of lucidity. When he approached me with a glint in his eyes, I dropped the glass and flung my arms around his neck.

Pavi's mask at that time had been fairly simple—smooth and clear, with two effeminate lips clinging intimately to his own. He may have already worn it at some point, but it had hardly been a concern then. Those lips against mine...it was terrifying. I couldn't get it out of my head that they had once belonged to someone else. Nonetheless, I had continued to kiss him with increasing intensity. The fear was all a part of it. He was dangerous, edgy, and maybe slightly insane—who knew? They were some of the reasons people fell for him, right?

In spite of this, I do not deny that Pavi Largo was one of the most gallant and distinguished men I had ever met. Though he was often immature, conceited and carefree, he knew how to please a woman. Certainly, he took advantage of them and left them in the dust, but if he tried, he could've entranced a statue.

I'll spare you the full details, but remember my words from before: toe-curling ecstasy.

So, I was sleeping with one of the Largo siblings, the one known for blatantly whorish behaviours. Not only that, but rumours circled that he was a rapist as well. Yet, still we carried on with our hook-ups. It was impossible for me to stay away from him. Maybe it was loneliness. I needed someone, after all. And though he hardly needed me—I was just another challenge he had overcome—he continued to indulge my selfish desires. Never once did he deny my requests. Then again, I doubted that someone like him would refuse a good lay. I was just surprised he hadn't gotten bored of me yet...

...which led me to wonder if there was something I was missing, something he was holding back.

Was I just a challenge?

Or was I something special?


	8. Repressed Confession

Wouldn't it be nice if I could just cut it clean here, and say that we decided to forget about each other and move on with our lives? That I regained my old life, became best friends with Lana again and found a successful career?

I apologize—I know that I should stop taunting you with a relatively happy ending to my tale.

Give me a moment.

*

Okay...

I'll cut to the chase.

Months went by without a thing changing. There was more shallow conversation, more covetous fucking, more secrecy and shame. As the time passed, I became more desperate for a back story. I wanted to know more about Pavi Largo. In different fits of drunkenness, or sometimes just loneliness, I had divulged pretty much all of my life to him. It wasn't like it mattered to him anyway. As I told my stories, he would just stare into his mirror, face thoughtful and frozen like the dead skin it was. The more I told him, the more I longed for reciprocation, for understanding. There had to be reasons for his nymphomania. I couldn't imagine that anyone would be born like this.

In some perverse way, I think I wanted to help him.

It was a cool night when the downward spiral of things began. The sun was just setting, and the clouds skimming the horizon were igniting the whole sky. Pavi had pulled back the shades, and we sat on a loveseat he had pushed to face the outside. His arm was propped around my shoulders, his mirror still in hand.

The dull sight of the city was disheartening. Though the twilit atmosphere would have been beautiful over any other landscape, it only likened our city's appearance to that of hell. Revenge, anger, debt, lust and murder...it all ran unchecked in our streets, and nothing was being done to stop it.

I leaned my head on Pavi's shoulder, and his fingers brushed lightly against my arm. He kissed my temple with waxy lips that didn't belong to him. A shiver crossed my body, but I snuggled closer. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

"Pavi," I murmured.

"Hm?" His face did not turn. He was observing the sunset with what I would call excessive interest, as though he had never seen one before.

"How come you never talk about yourself?"

"But I do, _bella_," he replied, perplexed. "We have-a both talked about ourselves—"

"No," I cut him off firmly. "You talk about stupid stuff like your Genterns and your faces and GeneCo, but you've never told me about _you_, Pavi Largo." I straightened up and forced him to look at me. "Like, when you were a kid. What was it like growing up as an heir? Did you get along with your siblings? Did you have any girlfriends when you were young? Or was it always just lovers?"

What happened next was unexpected. It appeared I had touched a nerve. His eyes widened and he recoiled, withdrawing his arm. For all the times I had insulted him and he had taken it in stride, this was the strongest reaction I had provoked. At that moment, he seemed to shut down. Although I could only really tell his expression from his eyes, it looked as if his entire face had crumpled. Something else was behind the mask, and I could just barely recognize it—fear.

"_Bella_..." He clasped his hands in his lap and kept his gaze downwards. "_Bella_...the Pavi...he..." His voice trailed, and I could see his fingers trembling.

"Pavi," I whispered again. "What happened?"

Here it was. I was finally getting what I wanted: the excuse for his personality. Something had indeed happened. Did this mean he had at one point been relatively normal? And...the deities help for thinking it, could he be fixed?

"_Bella_...the Pavi has never told anyone this..."

He was shaking so badly, I placed both my hands over his. It was barely fathomable. I was trying to soothe the man who had essentially commenced the destruction of my life. My heart was going out to a face-thief, a rapist, a promiscuous womanizer. My self-hate flared, but was soon doused by sympathy. Like I said...unfathomable.

"Ten-a years ago, I was out-a talking with the people. The Genterns, they were still around, but I honestly had-a no interest. I just-a wanted GeneCo...just-a wanted to be _famoso_." His eyes were distant. "I stepped away, off-a the main road, just to-a...relieve myself." He giggled weakly. "Someone had-a followed me...a man. He began-a kissing me...and then..." His eyes shut then, as did his lips. The shaking was near uncontrollable.

I was stunned. The face-thief, the rapist, the promiscuous womanizer..._he had been raped_.

"Oh, Pavi," I said softly, and wrapped him in my arms. At first tense, he relaxed in my embrace, and clutched at me with a kind of desperate fervour. He had never shared this secret with anyone, and he had told me, just another one of his lovers. Of course, by now, I was reconsidering that fact. Had he seen something in me that attracted him? Though I had never been violated in such a way, I was still broken inside. Maybe he had needed me after all.

We sat there for an hour with him nearly weeping in my arms. I cooed soft words of comfort in his ear and ran my hand over his hair. When he finally pulled away, he offered me a small smile, more realistic than anything his mask had ever shown, and I smiled back.

This is where the healing could begin. Now that I knew what had gone wrong in his past, I also knew his motives for becoming what he was. It had obviously disturbed him greatly, and because he had chosen to share it with me, I could help him.

Or so I believed.

--

_-to be continued-_


	9. Need to Forget

A/N: This chapter is from Pavi's POV. Hope you enjoy~

--

For ten years, Pavi Largo had hidden behind the mask. Never satisfied with the face of the man who had been taken advantage of so many years ago, he was always changing his appearance in an attempt to escape his past. Every time he looked in the mirror and saw a new skin reflected back at him, he could feel a bit more content. It always wore off quickly, though. Eventually, the haunted eyes began to shine through the fading newness of the faces, and it came time for a change.

He was vain, yes; he had always been vain. It had only worsened after the incident, as he preferred to call it. It was just that much harder to see beauty in scars and in eyes beset by memories.

Having sex with so many women over the years had done nothing to clear the dirty feeling from his body. Though effeminate, he had no desire to sleep with men. He teased his brother, surely, but didn't all siblings? Before the incident, he had a slight curiosity toward the same sex, but it had disappeared. If he had had his way, he would have never had sex with another man, but he never refused their propositions, terrified that they might just take him anyway. Sleep-and-tell stories were always easy to alter the next day anyhow.

How many times had he sat on his bed, staring into a face that wasn't his own, wishing that he had the memories and experiences of the person from whence the skin had came? How many times had he invited girls back home to his bed, hoping each one could be the one to free him of his recollections?

Though it was impossible to ignore his own mental torture, it was easy to hide behind someone else's face in public. People only saw the flamboyant and charismatic Pavi Largo, the man to whom every woman touched themselves at night, the man who was brother to the owner of GeneCo. In their city, he was practically royalty, and who could imagine that such status could also bear such anguish?

He sat now, touching his false face as she lay asleep on his bed. No other girl had ever asked him about his past. It had hurt, yes, but a weight was off his chest. He was grateful to her. He liked her. He didn't know in what way, though. Sleeping with her was fun, like it was with all the other ladies. She also listened when he talked instead of just rubbing against him. No one, not even Amber and Luigi, had ever shown him this much interest.

He wondered about love, and what it was. Amber said she loved Zydrate, but Pavi didn't feel addicted to the girl. Luigi said he loved killing people, but Pavi felt no anger toward this girl. He didn't want her hurt, by anyone. All he knew was that he felt different about this one. He actually enjoyed being around her. She wasn't just a temporary distraction.

It was still confusing to him. He still thought the Genterns were attractive—_very _attractive—but it wasn't quite the same.

Maybe he loved her. Maybe she even loved him.

This was what he had always wanted—to forget, forever. And maybe she was the one to help him with that.

--

_-to be continued-_


	10. Awakening

A/N: Last chapter here. Hope you enjoy the grand finale.

--

When Pavi came out and confessed his love for me, I wasn't surprised—not completely. I kind of knew it had been coming. His touches had gotten more tender, our conversations deeper. I employed all of my supportive friend vibes in order to aid in his conversion back to what he had once been, into a man I wouldn't despise. I wanted him to feel what it was like to have someone who really cared. More than anything, I wanted him to know what a normal life felt like; one that didn't involve concealing himself behind a mask and that wasn't plagued with innumerable sexual encounters.

My primary concern was his face. I didn't want Pavi to continue the façade that he was someone other than himself. Fortunately, he had kept his original face after its removal. It was still perfectly preserved after all the years that had passed and fit better than any of the other skins he had worn. It still had the slightly distorted, waxy look of a corpse, but it was better than the woman's faces he had been wearing like fashion accessories. After we hooked it to where it belonged, I persuaded him to dispose of his collection of stolen skin. He was hesitant, but eventually obliged. We spent a while looking into the fireplace, watching at the flesh sizzled and melted, throwing off clouds of the toxic fumes of the preservatives. It was our first step in the unspoken process, one that spanned over time spent in close confines, relishing each other's company. I figured that was the way to aid him—shower him with enough care to alter his thoughts on the world.

For a while, it looked like I had succeeded. Sure, we continued to sleep with each other, but it was different than before. He was spending less time with the Genterns, and never once did I hear of another girl being invited to his bedroom. In all honesty, for that I was glad. Granted, it would have been a considerable improvement if he had just limited himself to a girl per week, but a small bubble of protectiveness had blossomed in my chest. Whenever I saw him with the Genterns, the jealousy grumbled. It was barely evident, but I knew it was there.

I had not professed any love for him at the time of his confession. It was Pavi Largo, after all—the man I had detested for so long. I was only helping him. Surely he would develop some sort of feeling for me because of the time we spent together. I suppose that the same could be said for me. However, I didn't think it meant I _loved_ him. And yet, I hated to see him with other women. I wanted him all to myself. My only comfort was in knowing that he was not sleeping with half the population any more. At least that had changed.

I guess that I'm lying a bit, or at least understating my feelings. With the amount of my soul that I had poured back into Pavi, it was hard not to be aware of some sort of emotion stirring in my heart. Every now and then, I caught myself imagining a proper relationship with him. It seemed almost plausible now. Each time I kissed his lips, I couldn't help but envision the two of us together, content and in love. I was proud of what alterations I had wrought. Too much time had been spent with this man for me to not hold a candle to him. So much had changed in just a few months. At times I still felt like a hypocrite, but at others, it was nice to have someone.

I'm sure that, for the millionth time, I have you sighing about how this story has followed a predictable path. This is the point where the heroine is supposed to admit her love for the reformed hero. She changes him for the better! He becomes a normal human being! They lived _happily ever fucking after_!

Well, how happily ever after is it to see your love with someone else?

Walking in on the two of them nearly made me vomit. Completely naked and writhing, skin coated by a sheen of sweat, Pavi and the woman—one of the new Genterns from the cosmetology department, I could tell—both looked up at the intrusion. Pavi's face fell then. It was hilariously and perversely tragic. It's unbelievable that so much expression can show behind a mask, even one that is your own.

"_Bella_..." he whispered, but by then it was too late. The damage had been done.

I had done nothing to cure him of his addiction. Even my unending stream of encouragement had failed to convert him into someone with rational behaviour. I had given him my love and care—the first person to have ever done so! And this was how he repaid me, by fucking yet another girl. For all I knew, it could have been going on ever since our talk. If that sort of bonding hadn't kept him from sleeping with multiple women, then nothing would.

It was pain beyond anything I had ever felt; pure devastation in all senses of the word. It tore at my heart, ripping down what had been constructed so carefully on top of the fragile base of lies. A deception is always worse when you've consciously denied its possibility for so long. Even the faintest thought of what I had stumbled upon crushed me inside. I should have seen it coming. My first impressions of him had been completely correct. And yet, I had still invested so much of my life in his company, most of which I had spent trying to delude myself that he had changed.

People don't change.

It's a hard lesson to learn, and it's one that's only truly appreciated once you've felt the brunt of its blow. I may have set myself up to be the victim, but I'm not about to do it again.

It still makes me laugh a bit to think that Pavi thought he loved me. He took the feelings of non-sexual emotion and connected them to the mythical word he had only heard associated with concepts and inanimate objects. I'll bet he thought it was a romantic idea, that this girl who cared for him a bit could be his first great love. Yes, perhaps I was the love of his life until the new girl came along. All she would have had to do was blink seductively and beckon with a finger, and he would've lost all restraint. Love is nothing but an illusory notion to the Pavi Largos of this world, a fantastical dream that sounds nice in theory but is difficult to maintain in real life.

.~~.

I have a bit of a life now. I managed to procure a simple job. It's nothing astounding, but it's enough to have gotten me out of my dilapidated triplex and into a small house of my own. Lana and I don't talk that often, but the fence is being mended, albeit slowly. Luckily enough, my job has introduced me to new people and my social life doesn't depend on one person any more. It was a tough climb to get out of the hole of isolation into which I had dug myself, but it had been possible. Without the foolish dreams and hopeless prospects of the past weighing me down, things have become much simpler.

Now and then I see Pavi downtown, going for walks, always with a new girl by his side. Some days he sees me. He never waves, but I can tell that he recognizes me just by the way his eyes change ever so slightly. They narrow, become sadder than any frown, and reveal the soul just as scarred as his face. His eyes had always been his giveaways.

He always looks away then, strutting along as if nothing had happened.

Occasionally, I feel a bit of what I had felt back then—a longing to save someone who can't be helped.

Sometimes, I wonder if he still loves me.

And sometimes...I think I still love him.

--

_-end-_

_--_

A/N: Well, folks, it's all over. I sincerely hope you liked the story :) Reviews are love, and concrit is appreciated. Thanks for reading!


End file.
